[ His own brain buzzes with something, like his hearing hasn't quite returned like he can't quite focus on anything yet. It's all so raw and odd and terribly vulnerable. Silco's hand still curled around him, still gently, slowly rubbing against him, as if he could pull just a little bit more out of him, just a touch further. Maybe he still wants more, or maybe he wants to take a little more of him, like he's taking more from him.
It's all a bloody, ripe mess. He should hate it.
He doesn't mind it, shamefully.
Vergilius gets a soft squawk of surprise out of him when he pulled him off, his lips following it so that the sound is swallowed between them, shifting to something like a soft gasp against his lips.
He wants to know what he means by that β would knowing make it better? Or worse? Surely it can't be that he thinks he's pretty. Would he promise to break him? The near-memory of his desperate promise tipping him over β would it be that? The flush on his face β dusted across his shoulders too β They rise and fall with still too-heavy breaths, still coming down from the rush of seeing stars, just like he promised.
He pulled back to look him in the eyes β he refused to be the coward who looked away β unblinking eye staring into his. ]
Good.
[ His voice is hoarser than he wanted, uncontrolled. Does he know which thing? Did it matter? None of it had been... distasteful. ] I'll hold you to it.
[ He won't admit it; but he'll be thinking about it, and worrying over it, trying to put the puzzle together. ]
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It's all a bloody, ripe mess. He should hate it.
He doesn't mind it, shamefully.
Vergilius gets a soft squawk of surprise out of him when he pulled him off, his lips following it so that the sound is swallowed between them, shifting to something like a soft gasp against his lips.
He wants to know what he means by that β would knowing make it better? Or worse? Surely it can't be that he thinks he's pretty. Would he promise to break him? The near-memory of his desperate promise tipping him over β would it be that? The flush on his face β dusted across his shoulders too β They rise and fall with still too-heavy breaths, still coming down from the rush of seeing stars, just like he promised.
He pulled back to look him in the eyes β he refused to be the coward who looked away β unblinking eye staring into his. ]
Good.
[ His voice is hoarser than he wanted, uncontrolled. Does he know which thing? Did it matter? None of it had been... distasteful. ] I'll hold you to it.
[ He won't admit it; but he'll be thinking about it, and worrying over it, trying to put the puzzle together. ]